It was not in the quiet moments
that alone-ness snuck in
on webbed feet
creeping to swallow her whole.
It was in between boisterous
bouts of crowded laughter,
leg-slappin' and shared memories
that never included her.
That was when her solitary existence
She often felt old,
withered and wasted
when stories were served around her...just out of reach.
If they only knew how much
she had to offer.
How much love was carried in her coffers.
If they gave a minute to get
to know her,
maybe they'd see her wings.
Maybe they'd hear the friendship
of acceptance when she sings.
But, her measly chips don't compare
to the comfort of a shared
And opening doors to an
unknown future is far too scary.
So, she just listens to the echoes
of their laughter
as they scatter down the hallway.
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Molly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw.